A building that was owned by thieves. Several floors of weaponry and metal, he smelled, as well as bombs and people and animals. They must have raised and butchered the cattle fresh. No wonder Hao-Yu wanted him to tag along.
Through the open front door, thieves sat around tables. This building used a bar as a front. They didn't do a good job of it. They were lazy. Their clothes were mismatched, their weapons carelessly displayed—daggers, short swords, and enchanted trinkets stolen from gods knew where.
At the center of it all, standing with lazy confidence, was their leader.
A man in his late forties, Geroux "The Hand" Malren, a seasoned smuggler with greying hair tied back into a loose ponytail. His long coat, lined with hidden pockets, suggested he carried more weapons than visible. Unlike his subordinates, he was deceptively alert. He noticed Leo coming the moment he came out of the carriage. Not the front door, the carriage.
'I see. He has a good sense of hearing,' Leo noted, 'but everyone else here is….'
Cocky. Typical of thieves. He encountered quite a few at the café and avoided trouble when he could. For those that came at him with the wrong attentions, he booted them out every single time. They were thieves, not warriors. They used numbers and surprise daggers to kill. Against someone of Leo's calibre, their tricks meant nothing. Thieves did not desire revenge too. Once they realized they powerless, they retreated. They never tell either out of shame and out of secrecy. There was a reason no thieves lingered at Morrow Street.
All because of Leo.
Leo and Hao-Yu took a seat across from Geroux the Hand, a table and a crate between them. Hao-Yu started the talking.
"Ahem, so, the Templar Armour," Hao-Yu said in French. Leo wondered how many languages he spoke: so far, he counted four. English, Greek, Chinese, and now French. "I—I mean, we would like to inspect the goods before trade and payment."
Geroux smirked. He gestured to the crates stacked nearby. "Check 'em."
Hao-Yu forced a smile, nodded at Leo, and went over to inspect.
But the thieves were watching him. Sizing him up. Not Hao-Yu, they knew what he was, a merchant through and through. A weakling that he could push around. But Leo? He was different. The hood that hung over him obscured his features and no matter the angle, it was like they couldn't peek.
One of them, a cocky young man with messy blond hair and a scar over his left eye, cracked his knuckles. "You don't talk much, do you?"
Leo said nothing.
The thief grinned and picked up a thin throwing knife, flipping it between his fingers. "You look tough. But I bet that's all it is. Just a look."
Hao-Yu tensed immediately, but Leo?
Leo didn't move.
The thief tossed him the knife.
Leo caught the knife mid-air without even looking at it.
"Ha. Let's see if you're the real deal. Knife fight. Right now."
The thief lunged from his chair and at Leo.
'How uncivilized.'
The thief was fast. Leo was faster.
With a slight shift of his weight, still seated, Leo slapped his wrist and consequently the knife away. There was no need for wind, his strength was sufficient to numb the left side of the thief. Vulnerable and wide-eyed, Leo's knife was already at the throat.
Silence.
No wasted movements. No hesitation. He wasn't looking either.
The fight had ended before it even began.
The thief's breath hitched as he felt the cold metal dig into his skin. Blood dripped down.
Leo lowered the knife and gestured at Hao-Yu to keep inspecting. The thief stumbled, blinking rapidly before gritting his teeth in frustration. He picked up his knife again, stepping forward.
"One more round—"
"Enough."
Geroux's voice cut through the room like a blade. The thief stopped immediately. Geroux eyed Leo with newfound curiosity. He folded his arms, his smirk having fallen.
"If me or anyone else here fought you a thousand times," Geroux said, "We would lose every single time. I can tell. Say, who are you?"
Before Leo could answer, Hao-Yu cleared his throat and stepped in smoothly.
"Sir Anemoi," Hao-Yu introduced, carefully enunciating the name. "And, ah, I am done with the inspection."
Geroux's eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing. He definitely never heard of him since, well, Leo had made it up. The boss of the thieves chuckled, clapping his hands together. "Take it. And as an apology for my idiot subordinate, I'll throw in a little bonus— a crate of our perfectly curated wine. Consider it a token for potential future business."
Leo followed the crates he was eyeing at. There were seven of them. Hm, alcohol was a popular item and following the war, its popularity boomed.
"Acceptable."
Geroux's smirk returned. "Pleasure doing business, Sir Anemoi."
Leo turned. He raised two fingers and every single crate started floating. The thieves were silenced into shock. His magic wasn't just powerful, it was damn precise. To be able to use wind magic to lift, carry and load the Templar Armour onto a carriage was not easy. Why? Because wind was naturally offensive and sharp. No doubt, there were thieves among here that could use the wind element and no doubt, none of them possessed this degree of control. None of them could apply softness to their wind magic.
They were out in less than three minutes.
Hao-Yu, still palpably nervous, drew in a breath, "T-thank you, Sir Amenoi."
Leo just climbed into the carriage. "It's time to cross the border. Let's go."